


Soldiers On Their Own

by beng



Series: Fires in the Night [2]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Building trust, Comfort/Angst, F/M, Fili's PoV, Friendship, Gen, Post-Battle of Five Armies, Secret Tunnels, Stone Sense, Support, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-21
Updated: 2015-05-21
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:13:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,437
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3927676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beng/pseuds/beng
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nothing has gone as planned, and Fili is derailed and lost, with only a woodland elf keeping him moving forward. Blurred memories and heartbreak paint a bleak picture, but together they might even make it.</p><p>The hardest part of returning home is banishing the monsters in your head. </p><p>Follows "Fires in the Night".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Soldiers On Their Own

**Author's Note:**

> There are some differences from the movie-verse BotFA, mainly because "Fires" was written before the third movie came out, and I'm keeping this main assumption: there was no Ravenhill. Thorin and Kili died on the main battlefield, and instead of refusing to send his troops north, Thranduil simply signalled retreat before the Mount Gundabad army arrived. So the result is basically the same, except Fili survived and Tauriel didn't get any chance to cry over Kili or to reconcile with her king.
> 
> Loosely built on a [prompt](http://bow-and-sword-filiel.tumblr.com/post/111296300048/imagine-tauriel-temporarily-losing-her-sight-and) by [bow-and-sword-filiel](http://bow-and-sword-filiel.tumblr.com/) :)

 

 _Deep in the ocean, dead and cast away_  
_Where innocence is burned in flames_  
_A million miles from home, I'm walking ahead_  
_I'm frozen to the bones, I am..._  
  
_A soldier on my own, I don't know the way_  
_I'm riding up the heights of shame_  
_I'm waiting for the call, the hand on the chest_  
_I'm ready for the fight and fate_

_Woodkid — Iron_

 

Fucking landscape. Fucking rocks and frost, and acrid smell of smoke rising from the lake. Fili winced as he climbed the last stretch of the path up the hill. If only he could wake up and find he was still in the Blue Mountains... His mother arguing with Kili about some foolishness or other, and Uncle Thorin chuckling in his chair, stuffing his pipe and eyeing his harp in the corner... 

There was no sound, no wind in the hills around the Long Lake. The sky was overcast, but the morning felt bright even so, a diffused, ubiquitous grey light illuminating every jagged rock and desolate shrub. The path was slippery with a thin layer of snow. Fili swore under his breath.

Everything hurt. Despite it being still early, his back felt aflame, and he was stiff and sore, and bruised, and beaten from the nightmarish day before.

His heart was breaking.

He’d lost both Kili and Thorin. It had been his goddamn job to protect them, and now... He hadn’t even managed to reach them on time, his foot caught on some fallen shield. His sword had been kicked from his hand, a heavy boot crushing his wrist to the ground as he’d been forced to watch Azog spear his uncle through the chest, to watch his brother… Mahal, no, he couldn’t think back to the battle!

The elf was waiting ahead of him on the crest of the hill, her red mane hanging listlessly down her back. He hadn't wanted her help. He had wanted to lie down and never to wake again, but she had pulled him out and patched him up, and now she had taken to walking in front of him as she picked out the easier paths. Fili set his jaw as he climbed up the final stretch. 

"You don't have to coddle me," he growled as he reached the top. "Seeing their dead bodies is not going to get any easier if we make it more pleasant of a stroll, Tauriel."

"I wasn't-" Her melodious voice felt at odds with the still, frozen landscape. "Fili!"

He brushed past the red-haired archer, intent on getting to the Lonely Mountain as quickly as possible, even if it killed him. If he let himself think too much about his shame and failure, he might turn around still, and disappear into the wilderness.

It took him a moment to notice the absence of the elf’s light footsteps behind him. He turned around, ready to apologize, only to find her still standing on the hill, gazing down at the desolate shoreline. The way they were going, this was the last point where they could still see the lake.

“Tauriel?”

“He told me something, before he left,” she said. “I just… I’ll just never have a response for him now. I will never even know what it would have been...”

Fili hung his head as he swallowed another curse. That morning felt a lifetime ago. He remembered pushing in the boat, while Kili had tarried on the shore. How lucky they’d felt, how hopeful… Knowing Kili, he had a fair idea what his brother might have said to the elven archer.

“Let’s go,” Fili sighed. “It’s no use thinking about it now.”

The elf shook her head. There was a sad smile on her lips as she cast one more look at the lake and then started climbing down the path.

“I’m sorry, Tauriel. You didn’t deserve any of this.”

“None of us did, Fili…”

She pointed out a gentler slope, and they turned towards the Lonely Mountain again.

 

 

***

The large camp, situated at the gates of Dale, was bustling with activity as food brought from Mirkwood was ladled into pewter bowls and distributed among the injured and the homeless. With so much grief in the air, nobody seemed to notice the strange pair, and Fili was grateful for the short delay of the inevitable.

He wasn’t sure where to start. In fact, he felt completely and utterly lost. He supposed he should find Balin, or Dwalin. Maybe Bilbo or Gandalf. That is, supposing they had survived the battle. His uncle’s and his brother’s bodies were probably… in some tent? In Erebor? He didn’t know. Mahal, he didn’t want to think about it. The end part of the battle was a hopeless blur of pain and rage, he didn’t even remember the majority of it.

And he wasn’t going to think about it now. 

Where did he start looking? Who was helping these people, where were the healers? And where were the dwarves, had Dain set up a separate camp somewhere?

How was he supposed to get into the camp in the first place? Was he to step over the rows of the injured and the dying?

Sure, he berated himself angrily. Go ahead, step on some limb. Look at the wounds, take in the smell of blood and infection, then give these dying people an empty promise or two. Fail them as you failed your brother! What else should they expect from the last living remnant of a family that had brought on this catastrophe in the first place? Who hoarded gold beyond measure, who forsook those in need, who would wage war against all of them? They should tear him apart, the cowardly offspring of a dishonoured bloodline…

“Come,” Tauriel’s voice cut through his grim thoughts. “I think it is Bard’s tent over there.”

Fili followed the elf in a daze. He didn’t fit in here, he felt it to the marrow of his bones. There were suspicious glances cast his way, angry scowls and muttering. Even worse were the empty gazes of the dead, both elves and men. Again and again, Fili caught himself staring at grief-stricken friends, family members and neighbours of those who had passed away.

There were some who didn’t have anyone, only a weary healer washing the blood from their limbs as they prepared them for burial, and a dull ache settled in Fili’s heart, refusing to let go. He didn’t fit in here, he shouldn’t be here. He had to get out, run away, leave this place and find his brother. He belonged with his brother.

“Tauriel…”

The elf didn’t hear him over the low hubbub of the camp as she continued to slowly pick her way through the groups of people, fireplaces and tents. Glancing around, Fili tried to fight the sickening guilt and horror that turned his stomach.

This was all his fault. He should have done something, spoken up against Thorin sooner, not waited until Kili snapped first. Instead he had just stood and waited, and watched, and waited…

They should just rid the world of him, the useless piece of shit that he was. They could. It would be so easy, here in the camp, where there were hundreds of men and elves, and he was weak, tired and weaponless…

“Fili!”

Tauriel had finally stopped and looked back, her bearing tense. She looked pale and brittle, and none too happy to stand there in the middle of the camp. And yet, she was there because he had asked her to come with him.

Fili clenched his fists, bit down his fear and went after her. 

 

 

***

“It’s Tauriel! Lady Tauriel!”

The redhead nearly jumped at the unexpected cry, her daggers drawn in mere seconds. His own weapons lost in the battle, Fili barely caught her by the elbow from behind. “No, wait! I know that voice!”

The next moment, Bard’s youngest daughter had barrelled through the crowds just in front of what seemed like the main tent of the camp and nearly collided with them, bouncing excitedly on the balls of her feet.

“It’s so good to see you alive and well, Master Fili, Lady Tauriel!” she bubbled, hands clenching the edge of her blood-spattered apron. “We were so worried! Everyone was worried! We never even had the chance to properly thank you! You have to come see Da right now!”

Tauriel exchanged a glance with Fili, as the girl clutched her hand and started pulling her towards the tent. “He’s in here with Bain! Come, come!”

“Wait… Tilda!”

The crowd didn’t let them get any far, and Fili used the first opportunity to push the girl between two rows of weapon stands. They must be at the very centre of the camp indeed, Fili thought nervously. So many deaths, so easy to avenge… Strutting around the camp like this, he seemed to be just asking for it. Maybe he was. Maybe he just didn’t want the elf to get pulled down with him.

Tauriel dropped on one knee in front of the girl and regarded her seriously.

“Tilda, do you know where the Elvenking is? And Thorin Oakenshield and… and Kili?” she asked.

The girl pursed her lips and stuck her hands in her apron pockets.

“King Thranduil is with Da, and the dwarf king is in the mountain, Lady Tauriel. Lord Dain brought him there. I don’t know where Kili is...”

Before they could reply, another familiar figure appeared in the crowd, her hair in a messy bun, and her apron no less bloody than her sister’s. Goddamn fucking camp! Fili’s heart was pounding in his chest. How many more people were they going to run into until someone decided to lynch them? They just got their answers, they needed to get out. They didn’t need elven guards or vengeful Laketowners brought down upon them. Walk on, pretty girl, don’t look this way, don’t–

“There you are Tilda! I was looking for you everywhere… Oh.”

Perfect. Just wonderful! There was even a group of elven warriors sitting around a fireplace not far behind the girl. Somehow, Fili still managed to smile at her.

“Good to see you, Sigrid.”

“I told them Da needs to see them!” Tilda stomped her foot. “You are coming now, right?”

“Of course you have to come!” Slipping in between the two rows of spears, Sigrid joined in Tilda’s excitement. “You saved us from the orcs!”

“You got us out of the burning town! And you healed Kili, Lady Tauriel! Da says we need more healers here, because we have food but not enough people to share it around and to care for the wounded!”

“Tilda, they can’t stay that long, Master Fili is a prince, surely he’s needed by his own people. And Lady Tauriel is King Thranduil’s subject.”

“I’m not,” she said. “I’m banished.”

“What?”

Fili found himself stepping in front of the elf before he’d even realized what he was doing.

“Ladies,” he nodded to the girls. “We must go. Now. I need… to find my people, and Tauriel is coming too.”

“But…”

Tilda and Sigrid exchanged an unhappy glance.

“We’ll keep in touch,” Fili promised.

“Ask your father not to share the news that we’re alive with anyone, not until nightfall. Please,” Tauriel added, her voice strained. “And best not mention me at all…”

Fili nodded. “Aye… as she said. Now let’s go!" 

“No, wait!” They hadn’t gotten far when a new, male voice exclaimed from the other side of the weapon stands, attracting the attention of two elven archers guarding the entrance of the main tent. “Prince Fili!... Wait!”

Before he even realized it was Bard’s voice, Fili had grabbed a spear and pushed Tauriel behind his back, his warrior instincts taking over as he frantically eyed the possible escape routes. It seemed that all his fears were suddenly coming true, exploding in his face, ready to bring about a bloody retribution for the broken promises and the endless greed of the Durin’s line.

“Back, to the walls of the city,” he snapped. “Go!”

But Tauriel refused to budge. “Too late,” she spat, watching the two guards that had started to look for them among the weapon stands. “They will find us, and I have something I want to tell my King.”

Fili grit his teeth. “You’re not going to die too! Go!” When she still refused to move, he flipped around and pointed the spear at her chest before she could block him. “GO!”

The elven guards spotted them, calling out to her in Sindarin, while Bard ducked beneath the stands trying to get to Fili. Casting a sharp glance at the dwarven prince, Tauriel finally turned and fled, with Fili close on her heels.

The pain from his back almost blinded him, his abused, battered body screaming in protest as he weaved and ducked, the bright red of Tauriel’s hair in front of him his only focus as the world started to close in on him. Angry shouts from behind spurred him on again.

Closer to the walls of the city, the camp was a chaotic mess, weapon stands, carts, tents and stacks of barrels obscuring the view and making it easier to avoid the capture. Fili was breathing hard as he ran, looking for a more permanent way out and seeing none. Tauriel suddenly stopped and turned around, making him trip and fall on his hands and knees as he tried to avoid crashing into her.

“Half the Guard is after us!”

“In here,” Fili gasped, scrambling up and pushing her into a decrepit, dark opening in the wall. It was barely more than a crack, just wide enough for the two of them. He had no idea where it had appeared from, it hadn’t been there a moment ago.

Fili pushed Tauriel deeper and then sunk on his knees, letting his fear and exhaustion wash over him, his heart racing a mile a minute. There were black spots swimming in front of his vision. He scrunched his eyes shut as he pressed his burning back to the wall, relishing the feel of the ancient, cool stone. His breath came in uneven gasps, each exhale hanging in the air like the dragon smoke over the still waters of the Long Lake. He suspected his back must be bleeding, the stitches come undone from the running.

Where had he even got that wound? He didn’t remember. Everything after Kili’s death was a blur. By now, he felt sore to the bone, and pain almost didn’t register anymore.

The voices seemed to be receding, but he doubted the elves would dismiss the chase so easily. Bard probably didn’t have enough authority to stop them either. Fili didn’t care about himself, but they were on borrowed time if he wanted to get the elf safely out of this.

Tauriel had slid down the opposite wall, her forehead resting in the palms of her hands. She was breathing heavily. Fili squinted, trying to see in the near darkness of the crumbling niche.

“Are you alright? Were you injured?”

Tauriel shook her head.

“No,” she choked out, a hysterical edge to her voice.

“I’m just broken… Fili, I couldn’t… I’ve lost everything. My job, my home… _A Elberet_ … What kind of a Guard’s Captain can’t even follow orders? What does it make me when I… when I leave everything behind to heal one dwarf? When I actually point my arrow in my king’s face and threaten him not to leave the battlefield?”

Fili blinked. “You… did what?”

Tauriel straightened up and rested her head against the stone.

“I pulled an arrow on my king and told him his life was not worth more than your brother’s,” she repeated more clearly. “I begged him to rejoin the fight. He didn’t.”

Fili closed his eyes, his back still pressed carefully against the wall. It soothed him, even as what Tauriel was saying was making him see the retreat of the elves in morbid clarity.

“You mean, he could’ve… Fuck.”

“Yes.”

For a while, they were silent. Fili didn’t think he’d ever hated anyone before — maybe that was what made him so sick now. Or maybe it was just the realization how many lives could have been saved if only the elves had not pulled back. Kili and Thorin might’ve been alive. He almost felt tempted to go back and wring the Elvenking’s neck himself, but he didn’t think he would get very far.

Like Uncle Thorin had said, before charging at the Pale Orc anyway… He’d come back and fight another day. Because he had to return, whether he wanted to or not. He owed that much to his uncle, to his mother. He had to go and be the King Under the Mountain now. Fili shivered.

He leaned his head against the wall and tried to get a feel of their surroundings. The stone was ancient there, and no small amount of dwarven craft had gone into shaping the blocks. Perhaps, even the material itself had come from Erebor. Either way, like any dwarf, he could read the stone, and there seemed to be a narrow passage built into the wall, a secret path in and out of the city. If they could get inside Dale, they could then try and find another way out, avoiding the camp altogether.

“I’m so tired of all this,” Fili sighed. “Let’s go, Tauriel. I’ll get you out of here. Come.” 

 

 

***

The passage had turned pitch black after it bent away from the gap in the wall, and Fili had to lead Tauriel, her hand on his shoulder.

It was frustratingly narrow, but it felt right. Of all the goddamn things that had happened ever since their daring escape down the Forest River, his brother’s injury, the destruction of Laketown, his uncle’s madness and the whole catastrophe that was the battle, being ensconced by the stone was the first thing that felt right.

He had been forced to abandon the stolen spear a couple steps in, and now trailed his hand along the wall. They had passed the subtle turn where they would have re-emerged inside Dale, and instead continued further, led on by a gut feeling older than the stone itself.

Fili didn’t see where he was going any better than Tauriel, but he instinctively knew where he was stepping, knew where he was turning. There were strange bends and drops, even stairs. Every now and then, Fili felt the remains of a metal banister on the wall. In ancient times, it had probably guided the secret servants running messages between Dale and the dwarven kingdom.

That was where they were headed — Erebor. The fabled homeland of the Durin’s Folk, the deadly trap baited with gold and treasure. His future kingdom. Miles ahead, he could already feel its pull.

Tiredly, Fili mused whether it really had changed anything if Thranduil had returned to the battlefield. What had been worse, the Elvenking’s wish to spare his people, or that his uncle had succumbed to the dragon sickness?

Fili didn’t know. He supposed it didn’t matter. In the end, it had been the orcs and foul beasts of Dol Guldur that had started the battle, not dwarves, elves or men. And somewhere in that jumbled mess that was his memory of the battle, there were the cries of the giant eagles. The eagles had come from the Misty Mountains. They were the ones who had ended it.

Coming to another flight of roughly hewn steps, Fili raised his hand and threaded his fingers through Tauriel’s as he carefully guided her down. The elf’s hand felt warm in his own, her slender fingers delicate and strange. He wondered how she could follow him so blindly, so trustingly through the absolute darkness of the underground when he didn’t even trust himself anymore. Then he remembered that she didn’t have much choice.

“When I asked you to come with me, I didn’t know you’re banished,” he said. “I thought… I thought maybe you’d like to. You could meet our mother. Attend… Attend the funeral. I didn’t know you couldn’t go back.”

Tauriel squeezed his hand in response.

“It’s alright, Fili. I could never regret it.”

Fili shook his head. “No it’s not. You don’t belong in this darkness. You shouldn’t be forced to live under ground, away from your stars and all that… growing stuff.”

“I could live north of the Elvenking’s Halls, I think... Or I could go south. It’s far enough that I’d never have to worry about Thranduil’s scouts.”

“Isn’t it full of spiders down there?”

“I’m good with spiders.”

“You’re good with many things,” Fili argued. “Don’t throw it all away.”

“Either way, you don’t have to decide now,” he added. “You’ll be safe in Erebor. It’s not that dark there.”

An amused note coloured her voice even in the pitch-black darkness, “If anything else, you have piles of shining gold and gems like white starlight, I hear…”

  

 

***

Dusk was gathering already, when they finally emerged from the tunnel, the late autumn days seeming even shorter than back in the Blue Mountains. Tauriel looked up at the dark clouds and sighed. Fili guessed that in the foreseeable future, she would be longing for the sky a lot.

The closer they came to the gate of the Lonely Mountain, the slower became Fili’s steps. Only days ago he had travelled this road with Kili, Bofur and Oin, drunk on being alive and finally reaching the legendary home of their people. The gate had been broken by the dragon, but the halls inside, oh!

Now even the bridge was broken, the moat blocked by the crude blocks of stone they had used to build the wall as per Thorin’s order. The remains of the wall stood crumbling, the large golden bell hanging still just behind the entrance.

The mountain had cost them so much in blood, pain and sacrifice.

“Fili?” Tauriel spoke up. “Are you all right?”

He shook his head. He’d never thought he could feel so tired.

It was Ori who noticed them first, perching precariously on one of the remaining ramparts. He called out something to someone behind him, and then a chatter rose inside the gate. One by one, the remaining members of Thorin Oakenshield’s company rushed out to greet him, temporarily phased by the red-haired elf they remembered as their jailer.

Fili numbly nodded and smiled, wincing when someone would clap him on the back or say something about his strange companion.

“She’s alright,” he’d repeat again and again. “She found me, patched me up. She’s alright...”

“Laddie, we’re just happy that yer alright,” Dwalin roared as he crushed Fili in a bear hug, causing the younger dwarf to yelp in pain.

“FILI! PRAISE MAHAL YOU’RE ALIVE, LAD!”

“Master Dain, I…”

The lord of the Iron Hills hugged him tightly despite having never met him before the battle. “AND HERE I THOUGHT YOU’VE KICKED THE BUCKET TOO AND LEFT ME FEELING ALL RESPONSIBLE FOR THIS FINE GEOLOGICAL FORMATION!”

“Well, I…”

“HOW YOU KILLED THAT OVERGROWN LOUT! AND RIGHT AFTER HE HAD CAUGHT YOU WITH HIS FLAIL! I SAW YOU, LAD, AS YOU RODE THAT AZOG’S SHOULDERS, YOUR DAGGER BURIED TO THE HILT IN HIS SPINE! AND THEN YOU FALL DOWN WITH HIM AND ALL HELL BREAKS LOOSE, AND NO ONE CAN FIND YOU!”

“Well done, Fili!” Dwalin clapped him on the shoulder again. Balin was looking up at him, grinning stupidly, Bofur was brushing away a stray tear, Nori was chuckling loudly as he collected his bet from Oin and Dori.

Fili was in a daze. He thought he felt blood seeping through the back of his shirt where the stitches had come undone, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.  He had killed Azog? How? When? Why couldn’t he remember?

He felt his knees give out, and he sat down heavily right on the rocky ground.

He had killed Azog. When he’d thought everything had been lost, he had, in the end, avenged his brother and Thorin, and King Thror and Uncle Frerin.

They weren’t mad at him. They weren’t blaming him. Everyone was relieved and happy. They were even thanking Tauriel, gradually pulling her into the gathering crowd.

Dain’s booming voice cut across the twilit clearing again, pulling Fili from his mute disbelief.

“Thank you, Miss Tauriel, thank you,” the lord of the Iron Hills was shaking the elf’s hand while she just stood, awkward and confused. “Please tell your king that Durin’s Folk of the Iron Hills are grateful for your services. You are always welcome to visit, and I will make sure to send you some fine dwarven crafts as a sign of our eternal gratitude!”

Fili stood up slowly. 

“Master Dain…” 

“Yes?” The scarred warrior beamed at him. 

“Tauriel is staying.”

Dwalin snorted somewhere to his left. “What?”

“You mean here, in Erebor?” Dain wondered.

A whole flurry of questions rose into the air, and Fili could see Tauriel starting to fall back, no doubt trying to slip away from all the fuss she was causing.

“She stays as long as she wants,” Fili shouted over the hubbub. He hoped to Mahal his current authority was enough so he could just get this endless day over with.

“Fili, it’s… it’s Erebor,” Balin carefully objected once everyone else had resorted to confused murmuring. “She is no doubt a fine lady, but, well…”

“I told you already, Balin. I wouldn’t be here without her.”

 “Then…” The white-haired advisor exchanged a pained glance with his brother and Oin. “There are some restrictions and some traditions, lad. Until you, as the King Under the Mountain grant her permission, she is to go in blindfolded. She’s not of Durin’s Folk…”

Fili pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tauriel?”

The elf shrugged unhappily, and Fili sighed. “Alright, Balin. We do it your way. Ori, your scarf, please..."

Mahal, he was so tired, making himself move through the pain and the soreness that seemed to have taken root in his very bones. Someone started saying something about him needing to lie down, get his wounds checked, cleaned and stitched up again, but Fili just shook his head. He was going to see this through.

Inside the broken gate, Tauriel dropped on one knee in front of him, and he gently tied the scarf over her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. “For everything.”

She swallowed thickly.

“You’ve led me through darker tunnels today. Let’s go.”

Fili helped her up, his thumbs brushing her knuckles briefly. Her hands felt so small in his.

“Aye. Let’s go.”

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Smooches to iscatterthemintimeandspace for being a wonderful beta! :]


End file.
